A Confession's Possession

A Confession’s Possession

By Heather Ann Martinez

If you are reading these words...the letter began. The lawyer cleared his throat as he looked at the ceiling tiles. He rarely made contact with Canaan and Sloan. He knew they were intently listening to the final will and testament of their father Noah Albright. Sloan was leaning forward in his chair. He was a semi-retired professional athlete. He was expecting to receive a large sum from his father. Sloan had eyes that matched the ocean waves during a storm and was short fused. He continuously gestured to the lawyer to finish reading the letter. He would have appreciated a cliff notes version so he could skip to the part that mattered to him. He was a relatively young man at thirty-eight and had many dreams for the inheritance. He knew he would have to share it with his older brother Canaan but figured Canaan would be willing to give up some of his share once he heard Sloan’s ideas.

Canaan sat patiently as the lawyer cleared his throat and sipped water. Canaan had spent the majority of the past year taking care of their father. He had had many conversations with him about the past and Canaan’s future. Noah promised Canaan he would have a great life. Canaan worked in the family business-a chocolate factory. Noah had developed a chocolate candy bar recipe no one could match. None of their competitors came close to making a candy bar like Noah’s. Canaan expected to receive the recipe that was attached to the will. He planned on carrying on in the business and hoped to teach others the techniques his father showed him. Canaan thought Noah was one of the most creative candy makers he had ever known and was proud to be his son.

Noah’s wife died shortly after giving birth to Sloan. Canaan looked up to his father knowing that it must have been very difficult to raise two sons by himself and run a very successful business. Canaan looked at Sloan and asked him to give the lawyer a chance to catch his breath before continuing.

“Don’t tell me what to do Can. You know you want to know how much Dad left you too!”

Canaan retreated. He was tall and slender but unlike his brother, he was mild tempered. He did not like to argue with Sloan. Sloan was prone to break a chair or a lamp.

“Please continue.” Canaan agreed. Sloan nodded.

The lawyer continued.

If you are reading these words, it means I have gone. There were so many things I wanted to do in this life and there are so many things I wanted you to do with your lives. For most of your childhood, you have never faced hunger. You never knew what it was like to sleep on a park bench or in a friend’s car. You never knew what it was like to walk around with holes in your socks praying that someone at the homeless shelter had a new pair for you. Your mother made me promise that you would never have to experience the rough spots we had to endure before either of you came along. The chocolate factory came much later. It was a labor of love. The business, from the outside, looked like a well-oiled machine. I kept both of you away from the truth. It tormented me to my dying day. I was not a great chocolate candy bar creator. I stole someone else’s recipe. As fate would have it, that young man died in an unrelated airplane accident. He shared his creation with me at an ice cream parlor we worked at while we were in high school. I had a photographic memory and remembered where he bought all of his ingredients. I knew temperature and water played a big part. When I first bit that candy bar, I knew my fortunes were going to change. I would be able to get my parents out of the trailer park and into a home of their own they could be proud of.

Unfortunately, I did not have the money or the equipment to start making chocolate right after high school. I worked a lot of odd jobs in construction. I slept on park benches and traveled throughout the United States on trains and buses. I called my parents as often as I could. It was on one of these phone calls that they told me my friend died leaving the secret recipe to me. No one else knew about it or so I thought. It was through my travels, I met your mother. She was volunteering at a homeless shelter she had been in and out of most of her childhood. She handed me a new pair of socks. Your mother was a scholarship recipient and became an emergency room nurse. We saved every dime of the income she made for you. I opened the chocolate factory and it became a success within the first few months. Canaan was born and Sloan came a few years after. Your mother didn’t stop working while she was pregnant. I expect that is why she had complications after she gave birth to Sloan.

We wanted to give you the life no one could give to us. Unfortunately, I stole something from another man. I never credited him or spoke to his family. I never gave back to the community the way I should have. I never told your mother that chocolate making was something I stole from someone else. I lived a lie for many years. I pushed you away so I could create. In reality, I pushed you away so I could copy someone else’s work. I never added flavors or additives like others did. I had no idea how to bake or cook or do anything differently from the original. I was lucky that was enough. I am confessing to you now that I am a fraud and what I did was wrong. I didn’t have the strength to face the music while I was alive. Now that I am not there, I would like you to share my confession publicly.

This is probably not what you were expecting to hear. I know this will be a difficult thing to do for me, for our family. I know the business may close and lots of faithful employees will lose their income, but it is the right thing to do. Now that you know the truth, I do not want you to live with the lie as I did. It will eat at you. It will keep you up at night. It will make you look at the bottom of that whiskey glass and beg for it to numb you for a few hours. Please finish what I could not.

When you have done so, I have instructed the lawyer to give you a pair of new socks. Now, you make keep the new socks for yourself or you may gift them to someone who cannot buy new socks for themselves. If you choose to gift them to someone else, you will receive two thousand dollars and another pair of new socks until the funds run out.  The house, the cars and most of the estate will be liquidated so that you may continue helping other people. Neighbors in our community gifted your mother and I with a new pair of socks in homeless shelters. I want you to give hope to someone else. This is your opportunity to love your neighbor, to get to know another person in this world. You have both walked by so many people and never asked anyone what their name was. Canaan, you worked at the chocolate factory with me for years. You never knew what the plant manager’s name was or that he worked a night job to pay for his daughter’s cancer treatments. Sloan, you never once thanked anyone for anything they helped you with. I know you came here with dreams of inheriting a fortune, but the greater gift I can give you is what you can give others you see as beneath you. They are not beneath you son. They are standing on either side of you. Greet them. Shake hands with them and give them something they need. The rewards are staggering.

Canaan and Sloan held a press conference. They did as their father asked. The business was sold for a fraction of what it was worth. Canaan went to the lawyer and received his first pair of new socks and two thousand dollars. He took the plant manager and his family out to lunch. Sloan went to the lawyer. He received his first pair of new socks and two thousand dollars. He went to the store and bought more socks. He then went to the homeless shelter and gave new socks to everyone he met. Canaan and Sloan returned to the lawyer’s office many more times.